


At Camp

by RogueBait



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-08
Updated: 2015-02-08
Packaged: 2018-03-11 03:13:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3311804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RogueBait/pseuds/RogueBait
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-balcony kiss and confession of love, Solas and Lavellan's relationship has solidified. They've been physically intimate a handful of times, and a late morning awakening at camp elicits a passion for each other they cannot ignore, despite an awkward interruption.</p>
            </blockquote>





	At Camp

She wakes slowly and quietly against a firm chest, the feel of it as it rises and falls beneath her gently drawing her from the languid haze of the morning's dreams to the close canvas tenting surrounding her, dappled slightly by the sunlight beyond. Lavellan lifts her head, gazing up sleepily at the face of the man she loves and realizes he's already awake, watching her intently as she emerges from her slumber. She smiles and sighs into his neck, stretching.

“Good morning,” she says, muffled against him. Solas breathes deeply of her as he plants a gentle kiss to her crown, sliding a hand up her body to caress the base of her skull with long, slender fingers. She lets out another contented sigh, arching her body into his. “Have you been awake long?”

“Some time,” he murmurs. “There has been movement outside and I believe it to be late in the morning, but I could not bring myself to wake you.” He gazes at her and wraps both arms firmly around her, drawing her tightly against him. “Vhenan,” he breathes.

Lavellan smiles, reaching up to grip his jaw with a gentle hand, pulling his face to hers. She kisses him softly, sweetly, lips lingering for several moments before instigating a playful assault, peppering him with little kisses. Lavellan feels his mouth yearning for more and bites her lip to stifle a wicked laugh as she begins to withdraw a moment too soon after each touch of their lips. Finally, she pulls away entirely, maintaining just enough distance for him to altogether miss his target once, twice, and he stops. She's watching him, her face inches away, and he cracks open clear blue eyes in amused irritation. Lavellan's self-satisfaction deepens, and she feigns innocence, eyes wide as she blinks. She takes pity as a truly unimpressed expression washes across his face, and pecks a single kiss to his chin, laughing brightly.

Solas looks down at her with a wry smile, and she holds his gaze, sliding her hand from where it came to rest on his shoulder to the flat planes of his chest, the warmth of his skin tangible through the light tunic he wore to bed. His eyes soften, watching as Lavellan's expression of mischief gives way to something else as she finds herself absorbed by the way he fills her senses; the soft sounds of his breath, the feel of his firm, lithe form against hers, and the sudden intensity of his eyes as her hand comes to rest above his heart. She feels the steady beat under her palm, and looks at him from under heavy lashes. Solas brings his hand to her face, thumb grazing across her lower lip, and her mouth parts slightly in automatic response. Something pulls from her depths, and Lavellan knows her desire is plain on her face. Like the catching of an ember to flame, their shared reverie transforms and they pull into each other, lips pressing insistently, mouths opening, tongues testing, savouring, one hand firm on Lavellan's waist as Solas pulls her against him, the other fisting into her hair. She moans into his mouth in abandon, and begins creeping one hand down his stomach.

The sound of growing voices outside the tent press against them, an unwelcome guest, and Solas finally breaks away with a noise of discontent, gently taking hold of her wrist, stopping Lavellan in her tracks. She moans an incoherent curse atop him breathlessly.

“It would seem we are no longer alone,” he says.

“Are we ever truly alone, emma lath?” Lavellan replies, pushing herself up to straddle him as she turns her head to listen to the conversation outside, frowning slightly. Solas' face clouds as he listens, hands absently falling to the swell of Lavellan's hips, humming in disappointed agreement.

“Hm,” Lavellan shrugs, turning back to Solas. “Well, I haven't heard anybody say The Inquisitor, or Her Worship, or any of the other things they like to call me, so I'm just going to pretend they're not here.” She flashes him a grin and bends to kiss him, breasts brushing lightly against his chest, and he gives her a brief, chaste kiss in response. She pulls back slightly to look at him, and tries again, opening her mouth to run the tip of her tongue across his lower lip, nipping it gently when no entrance is forthcoming.

“Lethallan,” Solas begins, when Lavellan pushes herself upright once more, grinding her pelvis against him with more force than he thought strictly necessary for centering herself, causing his body to arch slightly in involuntary movement.

“What?” She crosses her arms and looks down at him. “You can't say you're suddenly not in the mood.” She bucks against the firm length beneath her in illustration, and he fails to suppress a low moan, quickly stilling her hips with firm hands.

“The voices are approaching—I can hear Cassandra. And she does not sound pleased. I fear some matter likely requires your attention, Inquisitor.”

“They can wait,” Lavellan replies. “I have other matters to attend to this morning.” She begins drawing playful circles over the back of one of his hands, while the other moves to his abdomen, where she feathers her fingers over the fabric covering him, catching the waist band of his leggings under one nail through the fabric, and Solas grabs her hand, enclosing it within his own.

“Lavellan,” Solas chides. She raises a brow at him, waiting for him to release her, and the moment his grip slackens in indecision, she slides her hand from his, eyes full with desire as she tugs the skirting of her tunic out from beneath her hips, hoisting the garment over her head and tossing it aside.

Solas breathes deeply as she gazes into his depths from vivid gems, running her delicately splayed hands up her own topless form, a light pair of small clothes the only thing separating the entirety of her arresting body from view. She begins to gyrate her hips against him in a painfully slow rhythm, hands cupping bare breasts as she sighs atop him. His breath comes through his mouth in a long hiss, jaw clenching as he halfheartedly grips her hips still.

“Ma sa'lath, please,” he all but moans, shutting his eyes. She stills over him, unmoving until he looks up at her darkly, brows knitted together in painful desire.

“Please what? Please stop? Or please don't stop?”

He seems suddenly incapable of articulating a response and swallows thickly in reply. The momentary hesitation he offers is all the encouragement she needs. She presses down against him in rocking, sweeping motions, bringing a hand over her mound, lightly stroking one finger up and down the groove of her slit through the fabric of her smalls as she moves over him. She sighs heavily, closing her eyes and arching her back, gently teasing a nipple between two fingers. She can feel the slight throb of his member beneath her when she stills, his hands compulsively stroking and kneading lightly into her thighs as she presses her sex against him, and he watches her with fascination as she lifts slightly, allowing her hand entrance beneath the fabric concealing her, fingers drawing a shaking spasm through her body and a lewd moan from her mouth as they work in languid motions over her slick clit.

She draws pleasure from herself expertly, comfortably, utterly tantalizingly, and he could come undone simply lying beneath her, gazing up at her as she works. She slides her hand from her core then, eyeing him in provocation as she makes to bring two glistening fingers between her lips, and he grabs her arm with a strangled growl, rolling her beneath him in one swift motion as the air whooshes from her lungs in surprised delight. He kisses her with an almost frantic urgency, as though experiencing her for the first and last time, and she wraps her legs around him, pulling his hips hard to hers. He groans, breaking away from her mouth, pouring over her with passionate reverence as he kisses up the elegant arm he grasps, moving over her wrist, breathing in her scent as he moves soft, full lips across her hand, opening his mouth to her fingertips, tasting her thoroughly.

A strangled moan bursts from his mouth as Lavellan skillfully sneaks past the hanging fabric of his tunic, sliding beneath his breaches amid his distraction to grip his cock firmly in one hand, thumb stroking solidly over his length after allowing him a moment's recovery. He groans, hips pressing forward to her touch, and she can't help but hiss a small laugh, grinning in wicked amusement. A smothered string of elvish tumbles from his lips as she rotates her thumb over his head, spreading the thin fluid collecting at its tip, and he presses his head into her chest, kissing, crushing her to him as he wraps one arm beneath her in a fierce embrace.

“Emma isala ma, Solas,” she breathes against a pointed ear. “Now.”

He exhales in a noise that could be interpreted as either pain or pleasure, and the intensity of his desire is such that it crackles in the air between them. He lifts his face from her soft breasts, kissing hotly up her neck, cradling her head as he pulls her face to his in a deep, long kiss. She uses strong legs to pull his slim hips to hers once more, an insistent reminder of her need, and he continues to support her head one-handed, elbow on the bed roll beneath, open mouth to hers, as he unveils himself from his breeches with his free hand, guiding himself to her soused slit as he hastily pulls the covering of her smalls to the side, seeking entrance. The moment she feels the tip of his cock moving over her opening, she angles her hips and presses hard to him, squeezing legs guiding the entirety of his length into her hot depths in one long thrust.

They both moan loudly into each other's mouths, and Solas breaks away from their kiss to look down at her in utter devotion, absorbing every detail of the way her hair lay tumbling around her, her parted lips, wet and blushing, her taught body beneath him, the way she smells, feels, sounds, all flooding his mind as he becomes incapable of focusing on anything else. Lavellan cups his face, bright eyes adoring under heavy lids, and begins moving her hips against him, encouraging him with slow, deep motions as she clenches in pleasure.

“Inquisitor?” Cassandra's voice is reluctant from outside their tent. “Are you awake?” They freeze, glancing to each other, and Solas brings a single finger to his lips, instructing her to not to speak. Her eyes narrow, and she smirks lightly before responding.

“Yes, I'm awake, Cassandra,” she replies, and Solas pushes a hard breath out his nose in frustration, moving to withdraw, but Lavellan's legs hold him firmly in place. He stares at the maddeningly troublesome woman beneath him with complete incredulity. “Is everything alright?”

“No. There is a noble from the neighbouring region here who insists on speaking with you. Something to do with refugees on his land. He refuses to leave until you've granted him an audience. Apparently he's sent countless letters to Skyhold in petition for your assistance, such is the great importance of this matter. How he tracked us down out here is anyone's guess.” Cassandra's exasperation is palpable, and Lavellan hums aloud, as though to consider this conundrum for a moment. Instead, she moves her hips under Solas languidly, testing his willingness. He searches her eyes in amused disbelief, unmoving. She kicks it up a notch then, pressing two fingers to her clit as she rocks to him firmly, legs locked behind him as she breathes a quiet, airy moan.

“Vhenan!” Solas hisses in clipped syllables. “What are you doing?” It is a purely rhetorical question however, as he is all too aware of what she is doing, all too aware of the dangerous little game she wishes to play. She allows him to pull back for a moment, and waits until he's nearly free of her altogether before roughly pulling him close again, forcing him to press into full breadth of her depths, a small moan rushing from her lungs as his weight falls upon her, their hips smacking together lightly in the abrupt motion.

“... Inquisitor?” comes Cassandra's voice uncertainly.

Solas' thin resolve shatters in that moment. If this is what his heart wants, then he would give it to her, would give her all of himself until she was satiated, spent, and could desire no more, propriety be damned. He hooks one hand behind her knee, hoisting her leg over his shoulder, and seizes the delicate wrist of the hand she'd been using to pleasure herself, pulling it above her head as he slides his hand down to her upper arm, holding it to the crumpled blanket beneath her. He begins thrusting deeply, quickly, and moves his free hand to her mound, pressing firmly on her with his palm as he rotates the pad of his thumb over her swollen clit. She actually breaks in a small scream then, biting her lip in hard surprise at the sudden increase of pleasure he brings to her, whipping her free hand over her mouth a moment too late. Solas issues himself a mental nod in congratulation, pleased to have bested her at her own game so quickly.

“Y-yes?” comes Lavellan's breathless reply. “What!?”

Cassandra stumbles over her words, repugnant as the realization dawns on her. “Never mind. I—I will tell him you are... indisposed.” She leaves quickly, and Lavellan mutters something along the lines of _yes you do tha_ _t_ , before submitting entirely to Solas' powerful touch.

She struggles to dampen the coarse moans he pulls from her over and over, feeling her pleasure steadily rising towards her peak as he continues to anticipate her desires and needs in the most impressive display of physical insight she's known, and she feels as though she's caught in one never-ending, blissful moan as he pushes her to the brink.

“You undo me, vhenan,” Solas says roughly, pressing close to her, and the texture of his voice as it pours over her is almost enough to push her over the edge. He feels her body begin to tighten, her breath hitching, a flush spreading over her face, and he pulses a small wave of magic through his hand, streaking it over her entrance, moving it over her clit, pressing warmly into her depths, and she's weightless, head swimming as she writhes, arching hard with a carnal shriek as the effort of her climax heaves through her.

Solas is murmuring strings of endearment and adoration she cannot begin to comprehend as he nears his own peak while she rides out the last of her orgasm. He releases her leg to bring both arms tightly underneath her, their heaving bodies pressing securely together as his breath begins to hitch and catch with involuntary jolts. Lavellan can barely move beneath him as he clutches her with such ferocious intensity, and she pants with each of his hard thrusts, hearing him begin to groan deeply as he gets close, so close, and then it's upon him, spilling from him in erratic fractures of pleasure.

She squeezes against him, moaning softly at the sound and feel of his rapture as his seed pours into her, and his movements slow, his moans turning to sighs as his heart beats heavily against her chest, limbs shaking lightly in pleasant exhaustion. Lavellan brings a palm to the side of his face, ghosting her thumb across his brow, cherishing the moment. They lay like this for many long moments, spent, wholly satisfied, yet both somehow still aching for more; for a hidden part of each other neither can seem to fully grasp. Solas subtly struggles to regain his composure, reeling slightly from stripping his soul so bare. He always does.

“Atisha, Solas,” she says, stroking his face. He sighs deeply and kisses her lightly, breath hot on her face as he rests his forehead against hers.

“Ar lath ma, vhenan,” he replies.

**Author's Note:**

> Vhenan – (my) heart  
> Emma lath – my love  
> Emma isala ma – I am in need of you  
> Atisha – peace  
> Ar lath ma – I love you


End file.
